Like father, Like son
by fishcustard221
Summary: Ramses Jones, son of the one and only Indiana Jones and heir to a historic legacy that stretches all the way to his grandfather. This is his story. (Author's note: takes place somewhere between The Last Crusade and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Hope you like it!)
1. Chapter 1

"You're Indiana's boy, ain't 'cha?" The gruff looking man barked in a heavy Texas accent. Ramses nodded stiffly, not at all in the mood to speak now, they were thousands of feet up in a plane and Ramses hated planes. He hated them almost as much as his father hated snakes. The rickety plane was flying high over the Pyrenees and was headed to the American embassy in England, set to meet with his father at the British museum in a few hours. The Texan grunted something about having a chat with the pilot when the plane pitched violently forward. Ramses was knocked out of his seat and to the cold grated floor. Shaking his head he rushed to the cockpit where he found both the pilot and co pilot with two bullet holes each blown through their foreheads. Pushing back the bile that rose in his throat, Ramses tried everything to get the plane under his control but it was no use. Fear and anxiety climbed up the back of his neck but he forced himself to stay calm, going crazy in a downed plane would do him no good. Ramses searched the plane for a parachute, seeing his only options were either to jump or die in a scorching explosion. Finding there was only one chute left under the pilot's seat Ramses strapped himself in as tightly as possible. His hands shaking, he wrenched open the door, took one last deep breath, and jumped.

* * *

Air rushed by his ears, he felt a searing pain cut across his left shoulder and he could hear the sounds of crunching metal and a deafening explosion drift towards him over the sound of his own thundering heartbeat. The ground finally came into focus and he felt his feet touch the dirt as he crumpled to the ground, his legs unable to keep him upright for a second longer. Adrenaline was pulsing in his veins as he untangled himself from the parachute and ran a shaking hand through his tawny hair. Pacing around the dirt road, the tire tracks told him the way towards town went east as did the faded wooden sign that read **La Eluvia 1 mi. **Adrenaline was slowly ebbing away from Ramses and he could now feel the intense pain that reminded him he had a left shoulder. Probing the tender spot, he felt a jagged piece of glass buried in there. He wiped his hand on his khaki pants, leaving another smear of his own blood. His formerly cotton white shirt was now soaked with fine red dust, blood, and sweat. The dusty dirt road finally led into the tiny town of Eluvia, racking his memory for the intermediate amount of Spanish he knew for "May I use your telephone?" and "Is there a doctor?" He ducked into the first shop in the square and asked if he could make a call, after muttering something about no good lazy tourists the shopkeeper nodded toward the back of the store. The phone's earpiece crackled and beeped as he was connected to his father's office in the British museum.

"Hello?" the voice across the line answered in accented English.

"Marcus?"

"Ramses! Where are you? Your father's worked himself into a fit!" he said, the sound of shouting and breaking glass behind him.

"It's complicated Marcus."

"How complicated?" Marcus sighed, used to the Jones boys antics by now.

"Well, the plane I took here sort of crashed into the side of a mountain and now I'm in a town called Eluvia." He explained, "Hijacked by some guy with a southern accent and he shot the pilot and co pilot so I had to jump out before it could crash."

"Oh my." Marcus said, "Are you all right Ramses?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just a couple cuts, nothing that won't heal Marcus." He said, shoulder throbbing.

"Good, I'll arrange for you to travel with our research team we have nearby. Studying the ruins of well, that doesn't matter right now. I'll contact them to pick you up and then all of you will meet back here at the museum in no time."

"Thanks Marcus. I owe you one." He said, relief washing over him.

"You and your father, in the meantime I'll try my best to calm Indiana down. And tomorrow you can tell him all of what happened. He'd rather hear it from your mouth than mine." Marcus said. Ramses thanked him again and hung up the phone. His shoulder was still bleeding and he must have looked a complete mess to anyone walking by. Ramses took a seat on a bench out of the oppressing Spanish sun and waited for the ride Marcus had set up. Ramses Jones, the only living son of the one and only Indiana Jones. Heir of a historic legacy that stretched all the way to his grandfather and one he was struggling to live up to. He loved traveling the world with his father, but it was times like these he wished he had a regular father or one that at least didn't make such highly powerful enemies. A worn green jeep came thundering down the road, driven by a young woman whose dark brown hair was tied up in a messy bun. The jeep stopped right in front of Ramses.


	2. Chapter 2

"You the Jones boy?" she called out to him.

"Uh, yeah. That's me." he answered, walking toward the jeep which he now saw there were two other people on board. A man with graying brown hair and almost golden brown eyes. Along with another woman who wore her strawberry blonde hair down by her shoulders and a kind smile for Ramses.

"Great! Get in we'll take you back to the outpost where Carter can take a look at that shoulder." She explained, opening the back door from her seat. Ramses climbed in and they began to rumble down the dusty road. The woman driving introduced herself as Eleanor, the caramel skinned man as Hudson and the blonde woman as Clara.

"We heard you had to jump out of a plane! Is that true?" Clara asked her voice laden with concern.

"Uh, yeah. I guess I did." He answered, unsure how to respond to this woman's sudden distress.

"Just like your dad." Hudson said, his Australian accent lightening his words. He smiled at Ramses. "You know I was the one who gave you that nickname Harrison." Ramses shivered upon hearing his real name, no one had called him that, other than his mother. But that was years ago, before she walked out on him and his dad.

"Always staring at the Egyptian models, entranced by them it seemed." Hudson laughed. "Your father hated tearing you away from them. I knew he had an affinity for nicknames and I thought Ramses suited you quite perfectly. Still does." There were times he hated the name, looking at it with scorn and disapproval when he was younger. When ever his dad would pick him up from school he'd hear '_Ramses! C'mon let's go!_' and all the other kids in his class would mock him for his strange name and his strange family. When they arrived at the site, Ramses' shoulder started acting up again, waves of heat and pain radiated from the jagged wound, rousing him from his memories.

"Carter!" Eleanor called into the nearest tent. "Damn it where the hell is he?"

"I'm right here!" another accented voice answered from behind them. Dr. Carter was jogging towards the jeep. He was a tall and lanky man around 30 with light green eyes that sat behind a cracked set of glasses, blondish brown hair and a smile that set Ramses at ease.

"Thank god. All right, Ramses I'll leave you with Dr. Carter. We have to go down to the dig site and bring up a few things. After that we'll have dinner and go over the flight schedule for tomorrow. Oh and Carter"

"Yes, yes. The item. I know."

"Then it's safe?"

"Yes. Come on Ramses we've got work to do."

"Sure." Ramses answered, following carter into the makeshift medical wing. The jeep rolled away and Ramses sat on a crate marked **Explosives**, leaning over so that the doctor could take a better look at his injury. Ramses explained the story of the plane crash and his jumping out of said flaming plane.

"You're lucky that's all you've got young man. Shrapnel like this could have killed you. Take off your shirt, there's no use in saving it anyways." Ramses pulled off the shirt stained with blood and sweat and fumbling with the buttons it fell to the dusty wooden floor in a heap. Carter pulled a metal table with various instruments toward him and set to work. After cleaning out the wound and tending to the other minor sets of cuts now came the part Ramses had been dreading, taking out the jagged piece of glass buried in his left shoulder.

"All right, this will help dull the pain." Carter explained, slipping a needle into the side of Ramses' arm. Ramses grunted and gritted his teeth trying to stop himself from making any noise as the medicine slowly kicked in. Carter picked up a pair of menacing looking pliers from the sterilized table.

"This probably won't feel too good but trust me; it's a lot better than having it jammed in your shoulder. Now, start counting backwards from ten. Go." Ramses snapped his eyes shut and started counting, feeling the pliers get a tighter grip with every number that ticked past.

"One." He said through gritted teeth. Carter yanked and Ramses screamed, a blinding pain had sliced through the drug's effects and knocked him sideways. Catching his breath and opening his eyes Carter dropped the scarlet stained piece of glass on to the table for him to see.

"The worst is over." Carter assured him, pulling out a needle and thread. "All that's left is to stitch this up and bang. You're up and at 'em again." Ramses slowed his breathing back to a normal rate as Carter kept him talking through the procedure about anything.

"So, how did you get the name 'Ramses'?" Carter asked dabbing at the wound with an alcohol soaked piece of cotton. "Unless that's your real name, then I wouldn't be surprised. The Jones family has a knack for picking strange names."

"My real name is Harrison, actually. I got the name from Hudson because my dad couldn't tear me away from the Egyptian exhibits at the museum back at home." Ramses hissed through his teeth, feeling the needle's sharp tug.

"Hm, I like it; a name with a story. Well, I suppose I should tell you something about myself. If you didn't know, I'm Livingston Carter field medic for this crowd." He said, offering his hand for Ramses to shake, which he did with his good arm.

"How long have you been working for the museum?"

"Around three or four years give or take a couple of months. I grew up down the street from the place. My granddad said there was no money in archeology and so I became a doctor. But some way or another I ended up working for the British Museum, life's funny that way. How it all comes back around." Carter said, finishing up the stitching. Ramses stood up from the crate and stretched, as best he could.

"Well, dad's not gonna be happy about this one." Ramses said, looking at the wound that would later turn into another scar to add to his growing list. There was the scar on his chin after challenging an older boy to a fist fight, the one down his right arm after careening down a riverbank and now this one. Not to say that his father hadn't had his share of stories, such is the life of an archeologist.

"If I had a nickel for every time I'd had to set a bone of his, dig out shrapnel or relocate a joint, I'd be a rich man." Carter said, smiling and cleaning up the scattered supplies. "I'm sure he won't be that mad if he knew what the situation was, having to jump out of a plane with a dead pilot and co pilot. It's not like that had never happened to him."

"My dad had to jump out of a plane? He didn't tell me that story."

"It was a couple of years back kid, you were around eight and the plane was about to crash into these mountains over India and he, along with his current girlfriend had to jump. Without a parachute might I add." Ramses was shocked, "How the hell did he make it?"

"Ah, now you see the problem. He won't tell me. Heaven knows why he wants to keep up his whole 'I'm the bravest man who ever lived' shit. We all know he is. Well, except for that little snake problem he's got." Only Ramses knew the origin of that phobia, he remembered the story vividly. One night back at home, Ramses was around seven, and Indiana had gotten quite fed up with Ramses' constant questioning of why he was so afraid of snakes.

* * *

"You want to know? Fine I'll tell you. But you have to promise your old man you won't tell anybody else. Got it?"

"Yeah dad."

"Good. All right, I was a bit older than you when I was with a boy scout. We were all checking out this cave with my buddy tom. We got a bit bored with the regular tour and took a little detour of our own, one way or another we found this group of looters and they'd found the cross of Coronado, the same one that's at Marcus' museum. Anyway, these guys were going to sell it to the highest bidder and I took it upon myself to take the cross and bring it to its proper place."

"A museum!" Ramses interjected.

"That's right, artifacts don't belong to us son. They belong to the past and should be treated with respect in the present. Back to the story, these looters wouldn't give up without a fight though; they chased me all the way to this circus train. After squaring off with a lion"

"A real lion! Like one of those we saw in Africa?"

"Of course it was real! Except it was huge, that's how I got this" he pointed to the scar on his chin. "Back to the story, I was hanging over this pit of snakes and the thing lurched off his hinges and I fell straight in. Hundreds of these things all slithering and hissing around me. It's a wonder I didn't go crazy."

* * *

The rumble of jeep down the dirt road shook him out of his memories and back into the present, the pain in his shoulder had now calmed to a dull ache.

"I see Carter fixed you up pretty well. You can follow me to where you'll be sleeping and where you can get a proper shirt." Carter had supplied him with one of his own shirts but it was much too big and scratchy. Eleanor gestured for him to follow her. The eleven tents were arranged in a '**U**' formation around a fire pit that stood, cold in the center. Most of them were filled with supplies for the dig but Eleanor had found him some space.

"I hope your accommodations are to your liking." She said, zipping the tent flap. Inside the musty smelling tent was a cot, a wardrobe with a smudged and cracked mirror. Two pairs of khaki pants and white shirts folded on the green blanketed cot.

"Dinner's at six and tonight's a stew night. See you then." She said, walking briskly from the tent. Ramses sat heavily down on his cot, it was a warm day and the sun was setting. Checking his watch, dinner was in half an hour and Ramses only now realized how hungry he was. Taking the first shirt from the pile he managed to button it up with one hand. Leaving the tent, Hudson was tending the fire, stoking it as it blazed bright orange to match the sky. He waved Ramses over and asked about carter's handiwork.

"He's a good man, Livingston is. You don't get many good men these days." Hudson said wistfully. Ramses pulled up a chair while Hudson tended the fire and proceeded to tell Ramses all about what they had dug for this time around. "This is our second time coming here, we're on the hunt for this." He said pulling out a yellowed and brittle looking piece of paper from his jacket pocket. On the paper was a sketched object, like a cross between a compass and a pocket watch but bigger and full of intricate designs.

"What is it?" Ramses asked.

"That, my boy, is a quadrillion. A weird little device created by Harvey Corrigan sometime in the 1780's." he explained, folding up the sketch.

"Who's Harvey Corrigan?"

Hudson sighed, as if he knew the man personally. "Harvey Corrigan. Where do I begin? For starters he was an inventor, engineer, chemist and a halfway mad genius. Not to mention one hell of a sculptor."

"How come I've never heard of him?"

"Harvey was buried in the sands of time my boy, quickly overshadowed by many more successful men of his day." Hudson explained as if he was talking about an old friend. Ramses was intrigued, "What does this quadrillion do?"

"Well, there are some reports that it can turn back time, others say it's a gateway to other universes. We haven't even found it yet so it's all conspiracy right now."

"What do you think it does?"

"Me? Hell, Harvey must have cooked up something pretty spectacular if it has all these stories around it. Personally, I think it's a clue. A clue to something bigger."

Hudson kept talking about Corrigan as he gathered up the ingredients for dinner and stuck them all in the large brass pot that hung above the blazing fire. When the stew was to Hudson's satisfaction he whistled loudly for the rest of the team to join him and Ramses around the campfire.

"Soup's on!" He shouted once more as the rest of the group slowly made their way to dinner. The sun had set and the night was cool at last.

"Grab a bowl and sit down, Elly's got something to talk to us about." Hudson announced, waving the team leader over.

"Yes I do, and Hudson, don't call me Elly. You sound like my father."

Ramses ladled some of the steaming stew into his own bowl and sat back down on his rickety wooden chair. Now sitting between Hudson and Clara, who wouldn't stop fussing over what had happened to him.

"All I can say is thank goodness Livingston was here. I can't believe you survived! Oh my goodness! It's been such a day!"

"Leave the boy alone. He's proved more than capable that he can take care of himself." Carter interjected over his bowl of stew.

"Carter, its fine. I kind of liked all the fussing." Ramses said, smiling at Clara, who looked hurt.

"Anyway! I have a couple of announcements." Eleanor shouted above the chatter of her team. "Tomorrow morning there's a plane coming over to pick all of us up; we're headed back to London. That means an early start so all of you get some sleep. That's all in official news. In other news, once again we thank Hudson for his powers in the culinary arts, without whom we would have already starved out here." She said, gathering applause from everyone. Hudson stood and bowed. After dinner was finished stories were woven around the fire, each of them adding in their own commentary to another's. In the middle of Clara's second story involving a nasty encounter with an Indian elephant Eleanor decided it was time for all of them to get to bed. The crew bid their good nights to Ramses and they each trekked to their tents in the half darkness. Reaching his tent Ramses fumbled for the zipper in the dark, unzipping the flap he let himself inside and flopped onto his cot. Unbuttoning the shirt he had been wearing his crawled under the scratchy woolen blanket and quickly fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Ramses woke to Eleanor poking him in the arm and shouting to Hudson to get a bucket of water if he doesn't wake up in the next five minutes.

"I'm up." He told her sleepily.

"Finally. Get your stuff plane's just down the road." she said and motioned for him to follow her. Ramses quickly followed her after pulling on a new shirt and fresh pants. Seeing nothing else to bring along with him he quickly caught up with the rest of the team. He patted his pockets and found nothing but his passport and, 'Right. I was looking for this.' He thought, taking the silver coin out of his back pocket. He flipped it around his fingers, the cool metal now warming up in his palm. Ramses slipped the coin back into his pocket and climbed in the back of the jeep along with Hudson, Clara, Carter and Eleanor.

"So we have everybody?"

"Yes" they chorused back to her. Eleanor nodded and started down the rocky road, the worn tires kicking up dust clouds behind them as they sped away from the Eluvia base camp. Ramses tried and failed to sleep on the way to the airstrip. The road was simply too bumpy and the company far too exciting to sleep through. Once they arrived at the airstrip, Ramses felt his hands start to shake. The last plane he'd been on was hijacked and he'd nearly died as it careened into the side of a cliff.

"Kid? You okay?" Hudson asked, seeing Ramses' face drain of color as he stepped slowly closer toward the cargo plane. Ramses nodded stiffly at Hudson, he heard his father's voice from somewhere in the back of his mind. '_Ramses. Sooner or later we all have to face our fears._' Ramses swallowed the fear that welled up in his throat and boarded the plane, anxious yet hopeful.

"Atta boy Ramses!" Carter cheered. "Heh. I believe you owe me a fiver Hudson."

"I knew the kid could do it." Hudson muttered as he handed over the bill.

"Yeah sure you did." Carter chuckled, clapping Hudson on the back. Once they were all loaded on to the plane the engines started to rumble and at once they were in the air. Eleanor sat up front with the pilot and the rest of the crew sat around the cargo hold, playing cards or trying, in vain, to fall asleep.

"Ramses! Hey! Wake up! This is important!" Carter shouted at him who had finally found a somewhat comfortable spot on the plane.

"What?" he muttered.

"You know how to play poker? We need a third and Clara won't play with us." Hudson explained to the jet lagged teen.

"Don't play Ramses. They cheat!" Clara shouted from across the hold.

"It's not cheating darling. It's assured winning." Carter responded sweetly, throwing a mischievous smirk at Ramses.

"Yeah, sure. Me and my dad played once or twice back at home." Ramses answered crawling over to their spot in the middle of the place.

"Great! Carter, deal the boy in."

After three hands of Ramses being severely beaten at poker by both Hudson, Carter, and even Clara he had decided that was enough.

"I fold." He declared slapping his cards down on the make shift table. Clara was still roaring over her win.

"I just cannot believe you Ramses Jones!" Clara roared in laughter, "You're worse than your father!"

"Ha. Ha." Ramses said drily.

"Aw get over it kid, you know Clara's teasing."

"Yeah, of course I am." Clara explained, stifling her laughter.

The rest of the flight Ramses traded stories with Hudson and Carter while Clara took to ignoring them and reading her book.

"Alright, I can top that easy." Hudson proclaimed.

"Oh really? Then try it old man." Carter taunted.

"Ok, here it goes. It was a couple of years back. Your father, a man named Solomon, and I were all digging for some statue in the Amazon. It was late when we had finished the first day and I was on duty for first watch over the dig site. Sol and Indy were already asleep and I had a feeling it was going to be a long night. I was alone by the fire, alone and bored out of my skull. That is until I heard something over my shoulder. A sort of snarling and then scratching. At first I wrote it off as my imagination getting the better of me but then the snarling came again. Louder and closer this time." Hudson paused and imitated the snarling he had described. "So, at this point I was scared. Like the hairs stand up on the back of your neck scared. The snarling came once more, right behind me. I could feel the beast's breath on my neck. I start to turn around and back away and then, I saw it. It was huge. A sort of cross between a wild dog and a full-grown lion. I remember it had jet black matted fur and the eyes. The eyes were most haunting. A blazing blood-red. So I stand up and I stare this thing down, our eyes were locked on each other. As if nothing else in the world mattered. And all of a sudden it stops snarling and it sort of bowed to me. Like a sort of nod and just then it turned tail and ran off into the night. When Sol found me the fire pit was ice cold and he said I was shaking like a leaf. To this very day I still have no clue what that thing was, or if it was even real." Hudson finished and grabbed his bag from the floor. At the same time Eleanor emerged from the cockpit.

"We're landing now so better pack up your stuff kids." She announced. Ramses let out a deep sigh of relief.

"See kid? You're safe with us." Carter said, clapping him on the back. After helping unload the plane's cargo into the museum's truck Ramses was once again in the car with Hudson, Carter, Clara and Eleanor. In what seemed no time at all Ramses was in his father's office at the British Museum. It was bigger than his office at the college, with wide windows, bookshelves and enough room to actually walk around. The crew said their goodbyes to their young crewmate and followed Marcus to another room, closing the large oak door behind them.

"Tell your dad I said hi and good luck." Hudson said, clapping Ramses on his shoulder and striding from the room. Clara hugged him tightly around the middle and rushed from the room, following Hudson closely behind.

"Take care of that shoulder son and if anything goes bad with it call me. I don't trust any of these con men claiming to be doctors 'round here. Oh, and tell Indiana Livingston says hello." He said and left the room.

"I'm sure this won't be our last meeting. Indiana promised he'd be coming around the sites with us. But anyway, see you around Harrison." she said, ruffling his hair and closing the door, leaving Ramses alone in the wide office. He paced around the room, thinking of what he would say to his father when he came through the door.


End file.
